CHAPTER TWO
Blythe opened her eyes to a pasticcio of clanking from the floor below.
She rolled in the covers, wrapping herself in the neutral comforter until only her face peeked out and the sunlight shone on her from a small window opposite the bed.
Only then did reality sink in.
This room wasn't home. Or the resort in Galveston. It was a dusty, small one bedroom apartment in God-knows-where Texas. And the banging, she could only guess was the man from last night who'd locked her in without so much as leaving his name.
Exhausted from the eighteen hours she’d driven from Virginia, she hadn’t even changed her clothes before inspecting the bed and jumping in. It surprised her that even in the unfamiliar surroundings, she’d been able to fall asleep at all. Much less two seconds after her head hit the pillow.
Now there was a buzzing floating up from the office below, following by the endless barking of a dog. She hadn't remembered seeing one last night, but she also hadn't taken the time to explore the place. Come to think of it, in the dark, she hadn’t seen much more than the front area with a row of seats lined up by the window and a reception desk with a flat screen computer and a counter cluttered with business card holders. She hadn’t even asked when her car would be towed in or found the mechanic’s bay.
Still drained from the stressful evening, she pulled on her boots and did what she could with her hair in the small bathroom mirror. A ponytail would suffice until she reached the resort. Then it would be massages and drinks, and warm, tropical sun for six glorious days.
Not that six days with the stranger from last night wouldn't have a similar effect. Sure, he lacked some of the Texas charms she'd heard so much about, but he more than made up for it in the way he filled out the pair of Wranglers he wore and the brown tee shirt that stretched across his defined chest. A genuine stick of lady-wood if she’d ever seen one. Working on cars was either very aerobic, or the man spent his nights bench-pressing engines. Either way, she approved.
And wouldn’t that body feel good against yours?
No. She scolded herself again. No hook-ups or even daydreams until her toes were in the Gulf waters with a frou-frou drink in hand. Not to mention her dream of a real Texas cowboy came complete with a Stetson and he hadn’t had one. It was a necessity.
After brushing her teeth and changing into jeans and a tee, she pulled her cell from the wall charger and dialed against the loud buzzing from below.
“You made it. How’s paradise?” Mandy sounded equal parts relieved and jealous.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Mandy, her roommate, and co-worker at Washington Elementary School hushed a male voice on the other end before speaking again. "What do you mean you wouldn't know? Didn't you arrive last night?"
Blythe tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder and repacked her things. “No. I had a bit of car trouble in the middle of nowhere.”
“Crap. I told you that death trap would die on you.”
"Yeah, but I was hoping it would croak after I arrived at the resort, and I had an excuse never to return home. Not half way there in the middle of cow country."
“Cow country?” Mandy’s voice peaked. She’d been the one to suggest a vacation in Cowboylandia, though Blythe had been able to talk her into moving her fantasy beachside. “So, did you meet any old fashion ranch hands while you waited for the car?”
Blythe stifled a curt laugh. “The only man I met couldn’t run away from me fast enough.”
“Where are you now?”
“An apartment in Fort Mavis.”
Mandy’s voice lowered. “An apartment? Whose? Are you safe?”
“Safe as houses.” Blythe zipped up her duffle and circled the small room. “The mechanic has a small apartment above his office. I guess people get stuck out here in the sticks so often, having a room comes in handy.”
“I’m not sure about that, Blythe. Are you sure you’re safe? I could call someone for you.”
"I was too tired to care last night, but yes. I'm sure." Even though the pit of her stomach fluttered like the wings of a hundred bewildered butterflies. Blythe tossed her duffle over her shoulder and glanced out the small window to the back parking lot. A woman dressed head-to-toe in pink was wrangling a feisty Golden Retriever from her SUV and having a heck of a time at it. "Hopefully, the mechanic will be in this morning.
I'm on my way down to his office now."
The woman in pink waved at a second much younger lady carrying a small brownish dog in a tote bag.
“Geez, these people take their pets seriously. Is having a dog mandatory in cow country?"
“You’re in Texas. They take everything seriously.” Mandy paused. “But still odd for a mechanic’s shop.”
Blythe nodded in agreement before the young woman backed her car from the spot that had blocked a faded wooden sign for Best Friends Kennels and Grooming.
“Holy Fu—”
“What?” Mandy screamed. “What happened?”
Blythe grabbed the phone in her palm and opened the apartment door. She’d been too tired to look around last night besides the waiting area and that had looked like any other front office of any business. Could she really have been so out of it she’d mistaken the place as an auto repair shop? She’d never live this one down. Luggage in hand, she moved down the stairs. “I think I just spent the night with a bunch of dogs. I have to go. Call you soon.”
Mandy mumbled something, but she'd already pulled the phone too far away from her ear to hear.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs and the door to the office, the smell of wet dog and strong disinfectant hit her nose. Blythe swung the door open and found the man from last night perched on a stool behind the counter with a phone tucked to his ear and his fingers working the keyboard of a laptop. In the line of plastic chairs along the front window sat the woman from the parking lot, the retriever at her feet. A door to her side swung open and gave a glimpse of the stainless steel table and concrete bath behind it. Someone buzzed a set of clippers along the back of a standard poodle in the background, and a young girl−in her late teens, she guessed−popped a wad of gum between her teeth and stepped out to take the retriever by the leash.
How could she have missed all of this last night? Too tired from the trip and too upset over the car maybe. No. She shook her head at her stupidity. You were too focused on the chest and the tight jeans in front of you.
And somehow he'd led her right into thinking she was supposed to be here. That was the part that she needed to have answered.
Blythe wheeled her luggage behind the counter and tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me.” She snapped into the voice her mother used when her father had screwed something up. “We need to talk.”
Undaunted by her tone, he pulled away from the phone. "One sec." Then he went right back to working. "That will be Monday morning at ten, and we'll have her ready for pick-up by noon. Yes, ma'am. Not a problem. Cut and shampoo. We'll see ya then. Have a good morning." He finished typing on an online form then turned to her. "We get started early here for the Saturday crowd. I let you sleep in knowing you were tired from the trip, but don’t let Gramps know you weren’t behind the counter by seven. You can shadow me this morning until you're ready to jump in."
Shadow? Jump right in? Let me sleep in? It was like being dropped off in the twilight zone. Everything looked the same and sounded the same as it had last night, but nothing was the same.
Her stomach twisted, and her throat tightened the way it normally did right before she threw up.
The man staring up at her as if she’d just turned green tilted his head and parted his lips to speak. "There is a coffee pot and a box of doughnuts in the break room, and Victoria just took a client back for a flea bath and nail trim, if you'd like to watch. My grandfather will be in shortly to go over the contract and finalize your agreement."
Not giving him another second to utter confusing conversation at her, she blurted. “Where is my car?”
The woman in the chair stared, as did the man whose full attention she now owned. The tightness in her throat doubled.
"You didn't have a car last night." He gave her a crooked half smile that read more inquiry than genuine, and he stood. The force of his body uncoiling from the small office chair made her back a step and suck in a hastened breath. "I figured you took a car from the airport that dropped you off."
“No.” She glanced away from him, needing time to think without being distracted by the wall of muscle dominating the cramped space behind the counter. What the hell is going on? “I called AAA last night and talked to your grandfather about having my car towed and fixed.”
“Having your car fixed?” He rubbed his smooth chin. “Gramps is great with cattle, but I don’t think you want him touching anything that involves mechanical parts.”
Frustration was getting the better of her. “I get that. The man I talked to wasn’t your grandfather. This is a kennel, not a car garage. I don’t know what happened between last night and this morning. The man on the phone said he’d take care of it, so when you let me in and gave me the apartment, I thought you, or your Gramps, was the man from the phone−the mechanic AAA contacted to fix my car.”
His smile faded, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in thought. All six-feet-something of him towered over her like Goliath to her David. It sent a chill shooting up her spine. "Then you're not here as the new manager for Best Friends?"
"No." Finally. They'd both at least established the miscommunication. "My name is Blythe. I called about my car breaking down on the road and this was the first building I came to when walking for help. You seemed to be expecting me when I arrived, so I assumed this was the place I'd called."
The glass front door opened, and another lady with a dog walked in, but his attention didn't turn from Blythe. Instead, he backed Blythe to the stairs and shut the door that separated the tight space from the front office. Once they were alone, he stepped away enough to give her breathing room.
“You’re not worried about your customer?” Neither was she, but being all but pushed into a cramped stairwell with a stranger wasn’t exactly how she saw her vacation beginning.
"They can wait. Besides, small towns have big gossipers and sleeping in a strange man's apartment isn't how you want to make an entrance to Fort Mavis."
And you have the largest shoulders I’ve ever seen up close. Blythe pushed her arms down when the itch to reach up and drag them along his abs took hold. He is a stranger, and you slept in his apartment. Focus on the issue, not the guy, Blythe.
Blythe pressed her hand to her forehead. "Damn," she huffed. "How could I have been so stupid? What kind of mechanic puts up his customers overnight? I’ve got to get out of here."
When she went to pass him for the door, he blocked her. "Wait." There was an anxiousness in his voice she hadn't expected. The scowl that crossed his face read embarrassment with the slightest tinge of warmth. "Last night I was so focused on getting out of here and home for the night, I rushed you. If I hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened."
Sexy shoulders and good manners. Watch out mom; I may just prove good guys do exist.
"I should have known when you showed up looking so tired and stressed. You couldn't be the manager Gramps hired."
Taken aback by the comment, Blythe rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“Hunter?” The feminine call came from the other side of the closed door.
He set his soft, brown eyes on Blythe’s for a second longer than necessary. "I'm real sorry about this mess. Give me five minutes to square away the lobby and I'll drive you to Dale's. He's my mechanic, and I'm betting the one AAA called for you. If not, he's still the best guy in Fort Mavis for car trouble." He reached for her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Five minutes and we’ll be on the road, Blythe.”
He pushed the door open and left, leaving her standing under the chill of an air vent. Or was it the residual heat from the close proximity vanishing that gave her goose bumps? Either way, the sooner she could get out of Fort Mavis and back on the road to Galveston the better. She'd come to Texas for an adventure, not to shack up with some dog washer. Even if the stranger with the tight jeans and the Texas accent had just left her gasping for breath and hotter than midday on the equator.
****
Two goods, one bad. Hunter remembered the game the second he opened his truck door for the stranded brunette and drove her across town. His grandmother had always made him play it when something bad happened as a child, and the tradition stuck like so many of her teachings.
Two goods. Blythe wasn’t the new manager because with her around he’d be inclined to spend more time at the kennel than necessary. Second, she hadn’t insisted on calling the sheriff after he’d locked her the kennel over night.
One bad. She's about to step out of my truck, and I don't even know her last name.
Hunter pulled into Dale’s Body Shop and Repair and shifted into park, narrowly missing brushing the back of his hand along Blythe’s knee. She’d insisted on putting her luggage on the cab floor, probably for a quick getaway, and spent the short ride into town with her legs contorted and pressed into the dash.
“Thanks for the ride. Sorry about the mix-up.” Blythe crammed both her duffle and her roller bag handle into one hand and tried to open the heavy door with the other.
He would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the determined look she wore.
“Hold on,” he scolded, jumping out and rounding the front of the truck to catch her door. He took both bags, with some hesitation from her, and waited for her to exit.
“I was going to suggest you wait in the truck and let me check with Dale about the car, but since you’re in a hurry, let me at least take these inside for you.”
Reluctantly, she glanced at him then nodded and released the bags. "Thank you, Mr.—"
“Cole. But that’s reserved for my grandfather. Call me Hunter.”
He found Dale’s wife sitting behind the counter reading a gossip magazine when they walked in. “Morning, Suzanne. Dale around?”
She never moved the magazine from her face. Classic Suzanne. “In the back.”
Hunter left the luggage by a waiting room chair and motioned for Blythe to follow. Knowing Dale, he’d be shoulder deep in the hood of a truck and disinclined to leave the bay for a conversation.
“What about my things?” Blythe questioned. She hastened a glance at Suzanne who picked that exact moment to glance up.
Hunter leaned down close. Close enough to smell the cherry-scented-something that rose off her like a bloom of fresh springtime air. Why do women always smell like fruit? “You’re in Fort Mavis now. Your things aren’t going anywhere.”
Dale poked his head up the second Hunter pushed the swinging doors to the bay open. Blythe followed so closely behind, he could feel her warmth sink in over the already blistering morning.
“Morning, Dale. I brought in a client for you.”
When Hunter stopped short, Blythe walked into his back. Her cheeks flushed, but being the gentleman he’d been raised to be, he steadied her with a hand to her elbow and let go as soon as she found her footing.
Blythe dropped her gaze to the floor and brushed a stray section of hair behind her ear. The submissive gesture made his chest tight and jeans even tighter.
“Good to see you, Hunter. Just finished up a dully for the Double C ranch. I thought your grandfather was picking her up this afternoon.”
“Probably is. I’m here about the car left outside of town last night.” He nodded to Blythe now at his side. “She’s the owner.”
Dale scratched an oil covered hand through his thinning gray hair. "That car."
Hunter could tell by the way Dale stalled to wipe his hands on a cloth that he was irritated as hell and choosing his words carefully in front of a lady. "Odd thing about that car. I drove around half of last night trying to find the damn thing and the owner, and never ran into either."
Blythe stepped up. “I left the car right where I said it was on the phone.”
“Which was? I searched for four hours and found zilch.”
Dale, on a good day, was a tolerable human being, but in one of his moods, he could bite the head off a rattler and spit out the venom. Hunter dropped a protective hand to Blythe’s shoulder and pulled her back to his side.
"She's not from around here and doesn't know the roads. She walked to Best Friends last night so the car couldn't be far from there." He turned to Blythe and silently prayed she understood the volcano that would erupt if she didn't weigh her answer carefully. "If I took you in the truck, could you retrace your steps to where you left the car last night?"
She seemed to read his expression and took a calming breath before answering. “I’m sure. It was a straight shot from your business. It was dark, but I know I never turned off the main road.”
Hunter turned back to Dale. “Since you have your hands full with the Double C truck, how about I take Ms.—”
“Williams,” she threw in.
"Ms. Williams for a ride to locate her car. When we find it, we'll call in the location to you, and you can pick it up. Sound fair?"
“Fine,” Dale muttered. “I’ll send one of the boys to pick it up after lunch.”
Hunter tipped his head, and when Blythe didn't take the hint to leave, he took hold of her arm and led her out of the bay.
“I’m not lying about my car,” she started before they had even cleared the front office with her luggage. “I left it right where I said I did.”
Hunter kept his mouth shut and his arm on hers until they reached the passenger side of his truck. "No one said you are lying. Dale's a powder keg ready to explode and arguing with a man like that gets you nowhere. Hop in and we'll take a look around. It can't be very far from Best Friends, or you wouldn't have been able to walk."
The second the words shot out of his mouth he knew he should have thought them through more carefully. Blythe's face tightened, and she planted her feet in the gravel lot. "I'm more than capable of walking a far distance. Just as I am capable of remembering where I left my car."
The light in her eyes danced in the morning sunlight and her pinched lower lip twitched. Forced bravado. Damn did she have it in spades.
He opened the passenger door and waved her in. "I'm sure you are capable of walking. Now let's go find that car and get you back on the road." Before I spend my entire Saturday playing chauffeur instead of working on the ranch.
This time, she allowed him to stash the luggage in his toolbox. She only kept her phone out and played with it, searching for a signal as they pulled out of Dale's lot and the entire half a mile back to Best Friends.
"Is there any chance there's a Starbucks near by? I've usually downed at least a pot of coffee by now, and my head is aching."
He laughed. “The closest Starbucks is about a hundred miles from here.”
“Damn.”
He had to strain to hear the whispered curse. It hadn't occurred to him to even imagine what kind of woman Blythe was until she let the fault slip. Was she the type to create funny little words in place of profanity, or the kind who let curses fly like the wind? Did she shy away from physical contact until at least the third date, or was she the type to welcome a man into her bed without knowing every detail of his past?
“How do you get a signal in this place?” She wrinkled her short, pointed nose at her phone and frowned.
He couldn't help but imagine those same pouting lips wrapped around his cock and that sharp nose bobbing up and down as she worked him. Where the hell did that thought come from? If he wanted to keep his crotch from swelling to painful measures, he had to school his thoughts more carefully. Her sitting inches away in a low cut tee shirt that exposed the rounded tops of her breasts and tight ass jeans that hugged every delicious curve of her backside and legs didn't make that job easy.
Hunter reached into the center console and pulled out his work cell, careful not to brush her fingers when he handed it over. "Here. Use mine for now. Fort Mavis isn't big enough to cover all the cell carriers. Some of the cheaper ones can't get a signal out here." Again, he didn't think through the words before he spoke. She was messing with his mental sharpness.
Blythe cut her gaze sharp across the truck cab before taking his phone with a curt “thanks” and dialing.
“Information. I need a number for the Palm Resort in Galveston. Yes, you can send the call through.”
“The Palm?” he muttered under his breath. “Kind of a ritzy place.”
“It was supposed to be an engagement gift from my fiancé.”
Fiancé put a fire in his belly. She wasn’t single. Besides that, what kind of man would let a woman travel hundreds of miles alone in a rundown car and didn't at least make sure she had a decent cell phone? God willing, he'd find out when the jerk picked her up.
“Where is this fiancé of yours now?”
She tilted her head toward the window, hiding her expression from him.
"Probably enjoying the house his new girlfriend's parents have in Rehoboth Beach. My friend Mandy was coming with me to use the trip anyway, but she caught a bug at the last minute and couldn’t make it.”
“Damn.” He knew all about fair-weather bedmates. He glanced over to find her bottom lip quivering again. So much trouble wrapped in a tight little package. He’d place bets she had no idea the torment a woman in crisis could cause for a man. “He did you a favor then. Sounds like you didn’t need him.”
She didn’t look away from the window and went back to her call. “I’m checking on a reservation for Blythe Williams. I was supposed to check in last night but had some car trouble and—but I made the reservation six months ago—I would have called if my phone had been working—you don't hold rooms for more than twelve hours, but it's only been—" She glanced at the clock on the truck dash. "Well, you have a great day, too."
She pressed her finger to the end button and dropped the phone to her lap.
“Everything all right?” he asked even though the sarcastic tone in her voice answered the question perfectly.
When she finally turned from the window, her face heated to a rosy pink and her eyes narrowed in what he first thought was anger, then realized was an attempt to hold back tears.
"The damn resort gave my room away when I didn't check in last night." She looked up at Hunter, her lashes weighted down and wet. "I don't have a place to stay."
If she’d been his girl, he would have jerked the truck to the side of the road and kissed those tears off her lashes before calling that resort and giving them hell. Even so, he was half tempted to do it just to blow off steam.
But she wasn’t his, and from the looks of her, she could handle her own problems without a horny stranger causing more conflict. "Did you put a payment down with a credit card?"
"They're refunding the money.” She ran a finger under her eyes. “It seems the hotel overbooked their rooms for the week. I didn't show up, so I'm out. Oh—" Blythe pressed her palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. "But they'd like to offer me a discount on my next stay."
Hunter heard the frustration in her voice, but his attention had wavered to the white truck parked near the front door of Best Friends when they passed. Gramps usually didn’t show up until his lunch break from working as a horse trainer on the Double C. Something was up, and he’d place bets it had to do with the new manager. The real new manager.
He glanced at Blythe. She had panic and pleading written all over the worry lines on her forehead. Damn, why did she have to fall into his lap? If she'd shown up a couple of hours earlier, he would have been working in the back and missed her completely. Then, he'd be spending his Saturday afternoon fixing the back of his stable wall. Instead, he would spend the rest of his day holding together the pieces of someone else's shattered plans.
He focused back on the road. “We’d better start looking for your car now. While Dale’s working on it, Nancy, our receptionist, can help you make some calls and book a new place in Galveston. I’m sure there’s something that still has an opening.”
“Thank you.” Blythe didn’t open her eyes or drop her hand from her forehead. “I swear I’ll be out of your hair as soon as we find it.”
Hunter chomped down in the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. There was no way she was going to be out of his hair any time soon, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.